


the problem of time

by noahlikeswaffles



Series: such lovely blood [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aging, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Fluff, Human/Vampire Relationship, Insecure Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Relationship Discussions, Sleepy Cuddles, Top John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:40:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29102676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noahlikeswaffles/pseuds/noahlikeswaffles
Summary: John knew this conversation would happen eventually, but why is Sherlock still so afraid to turn him?
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Series: such lovely blood [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2135322
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	the problem of time

Sherlock purred, bonelessly curling himself into John's warm embrace. He tucked his nose into his John's neck, their legs entangled beneath the cozy blankets. He was sated and his parted lips were a deep maroon, dark against his porcelain skin. The smell of sex still hung in the air and he gulped it down heavily. 

John's eyes wandered gratefully across his lover's face, caressing his faintly scarred cheekbone with his knuckle. Sherlock blinked, gazing at John with a silly smile, drunk on the most delicious blood in the world, full stop. 

"Hi Jawn," He murmered, giving John a rather giggly Eskimo kiss. 

"Hi," The human chuckled, stretching lazily, his naked skin so amazingly warm against Sherlock's cold fingers as they adjusted. Sherlock lay across his chest and John drew circles on his bare white back, poking his favourite freckles for good measure. 

Sherlock's stomach churned as his ear tickled against John's curly chest hair, his heart beat loud and constant, the beat that kept life in John, the most pure golden life. The vampire looked up with a heavy guilt, the glow of John's tanned skin somehow brighter, and the delicious smell of his scabbing bites bittersweet. 

John was so lovely. 

Sherlock was not. 

Sherlock was cold and dark and rude. He was a monster, a bleeder. Societal opinions on his species were changing, sure, but that didn't mean he wasn't the damned of the earth. That he'd live a long, torturous immortality, cursed to feed off others, always a monster.

But then John came, brilliant and golden, a sun looking for a moon, and Sherlock couldn't help but be caught in orbit. 

In all the years of his existence, he'd never met a human like John. A human who got him blood bags and kissed his freckles and looked after him. A human who had snogged him and simply avoided his fangs. A human who'd _married_ him. 

"Y'alright, love?" John murmured, brushing through Sherlock's soft fluffy hair.

Sherlock hmmed in the affirmative, burrowing deeper into John's warm armpit. 

"Ah Ah Ah Sherlock you're freezing," John chuckled, sucking in a deep breath through his nose at the frigid limbs that had curled around him like an octopus. 

"M'sorry," Sherlock mumbled. 

"No love, you're perfectly alright," John smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "My bloody git,"

"Does that pun never get old?" Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"It still makes you smile doesn't it?"

Sherlock conceded that point. 

"John?"

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"How old are you?"

"You don't know?" John quirked an eyebrow and Sherlock blushed in that oh-so-faint way of his. 

"I forget," He mumbled shyly. 

"I'm 41,"

"Gosh," Sherlock whispered. He'd been turned at 28. But granted that was in the seventeenth century.

"Oi, says you, prat. You're what? 400?" 

" _346_ , Jawn,"

"I'm not old, Sherlock," John said again, more to himself than his partner. 

"John I- I don't-" Sherlock whispered, his face fallen and his eyes flickering everywhere. John deepened his own breath, helping to calm the panicking vampire. 

"I know, Sherlock, I know, we don't have to talk about that now. It's alright,"

"It's not alright! It's not! I don't want-"

"Sherlock. You don't want to turn me, that's alright, I understand that."

"It's not that i don't want to- oh god,"

"Sherlock! Christ, love, calm down, you're going to hyperventilate!" John sat up quickly, grasping Sherlock by his shoulders. "Love, we don't have to talk about it."

"But we have to. I have to do it, before it's too late, and I don't want it to be too late!" 

"Too late for what, Sherlock, you've got to slow down and explain,"

"What if I turn you too late! What if you're old and grey forever and you hate me! I don't want to lose you yet, John, you're- golden and warm and I don't want to ruin it." Sherlock pushed John away, standing, stark naked in their bedroom, pacing from one wall to the other.

" _Sherlock_ ," John whispered, eyes soft and kind.

"I don't want to take the sun from you! You love the sun!" Sherlock pointed frantically to the black shut curtains.

"Baby-"

"I want to grow old with you! I want it so badly. I want to be drooling senile and grey with you. We'd live in Sussex... and have bees... and you could write your book...and-"

"That's not gonna happen, darling"

"Why not?!" Sherlock shouted, his eyebrows dug together, his lips pressed into a petulant line, "Why do you want this? Why did you give me this?" Sherlock held up his left hand, the false silver ring glimmering, "Do you know what this means?!"

"Sherlock, of course I do! Oh Sherlock- love, let's have some tea."

"Why tea?"

"Because tea makes everything better."

"Granted."

* * *

Sherlock looked rather despondent, his flop of curls hung between his shoulders, looking frail and tiny hunched over his steaming mug. John sighed and set his own on the side table by his armchair, leaning forward and enveloping Sherlock's hands around the cup.

Their eyes met and John took a moment to just smile and enjoy the view. God. That gorgeous creature was all his, what a fantastic world to live in. Sherlock looked down sadly, into his tea, eyes brimming with thick tears.

"Sherlock, can you look at me? Yes, there you are, hi darling," John smiled, "I'm gonna tell you a story, okay?"

Sherlock didn't say anything. 

"Right. Well, there was this man. He was a solider, and a doctor, and he was all alone. He had no friends, no family, and no prospects. His best friend was his gun, and every night he planned to use it the next. He was a dead man walking, walking nowhere at all, when he met his old mate, and his old mate introduced him to a mad scientist detective with the most beautiful eyes in the world. And the solider fell so in love with this gorgeous creature that he came back to life, and the world was bright again, so much brighter in the night time than in the daylight,"

Sherlock was speechless, staring straight at John with eyes so wide he looked like a cartoon. 

"Jawn-"

"Shh, one more thing love. And that solider knew that he would always be by that man's side, in good times and bad, no matter that cost. There is nothing in the world I would give up to lose a single minute with you, Sherlock," John whispered, kissing Sherlock's lithe pale hand with warm supple lips. 

"But John, you'd be- _cursed_ \- forever-"

"Do you know how lovely eternity would be with you? I'd give anything for it, Sherlock, anything. Anything to never have to say goodbye. Never have to stop pestering you about your experiments in the bloody fridge. And it doesn't have to be now, we still have a few years, alright?"

"Alright,"

"Oh, Sherlock, you loon. As if I'd ever give you up for anything," John smirked, standing and pressing a kiss to Sherlock's floof of midnight locks. After a moment's processing, Sherlock jumped up and pounced on John, barely in time for him to catch him from falling as they collided. 

"Jawn my refractory period has been refreshed, take me to bed," 

"What?"

"Sex. Want sex. Now please." Sherlock awkwardly blurted out as he tugged at John's shirt buttons. 

"Your wish is my command," John grinned and lead them to the bedroom.


End file.
